


A Blossom's Tale

by Igot2peedou



Category: Riverdale - Fandom
Genre: Family, Friendship, Siblings, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-13 00:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10502550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Igot2peedou/pseuds/Igot2peedou
Summary: Cheryl can't help but noticing Betty Cooper





	1. Chapter 1

 

"Fucking nerd."

Jason strips his letterman off, chucking it at her with unnecessary force. She ducks too late. The sensation of buttons smarten across her face as she mechanically puts it on. Cheryl imagines periwinkle blue bruises forming, rising up against the faint handful of freckles already scattered across her cheeks.

She glares at Jason.

"It was your idea psycho."

He smiles and cups her bun. "I know." Cheryl wants to drop kick him- which, she very well could do, but instead she pulls away, nonplussed. "I look like that idiot from That 70's Show. Princess Leia my ass Jason!"

He chortles that dumb old man chortle of his. "You look good."

"I know." She sniffs.

Cheryl still isn't in the greatest mood, she's freezing, looks like Donna instead of the oh-so-iconic space princess Jason just had to see her dress up as, and well she doesn't want to go to this dumb party in the first place. He offers her his hand as a peace offering. She takes it. "Maybe I should have dressed up as Luke."

Cheryl rolls her eyes.

"And what? Give those virgins new material to jerk over- oh look, 'Cheryl and Jason as Luke and Leia. Twice the twincest!'"

He winces, tightening his grip on her hand. "Ha ha."                                

Cheryl shrugs. "You don't hear it because they say it behind your back Jay. I do." Jason sighs, "They're idiots."

She hears what's left unsaid. About them. Their parents- the bias, everyone hates them for being the Blossom kids, and she gets the blunt of it. While Jason can screw his way through the school and be still manage to be the poster boy, the American fucking dream, she gets backstreet politics and expectations to uphold. Queen Bee. The daughter of her mother. Tact on the fact no one wants to see them happy, there's a lot of rumors. Not that many make it around to Jason but Cheryl hears and sees all.

Jason adjusts his mask, seared scratched skin. Burn victim. Freddy Krueger. She feels a hint of a smile twist across her lips. "Besides, at least the outside looks like your inside. Ugly."

"If I'm ugly you're ugly Cher."

"Never said I wasn't Jay."

They've almost reached their destination now but they continue at the same pace. Joined hands swinging back and forth like an offset pendulum.

She had almost made him dress up as his Hollywood namesake, but he did that two years ago. It'd be old news to go for again. Cheryl wonders how long she'll have to small talk, how long she has to play the queen bee- not that she doesn't enjoy scathing remarks or occasional put down- but it gets old. Boring. Repetitive, if you will. Before ringing the doorbell Cheryl forks over Jason's jacket. He folds it over his arm to give to the doorman. The bite of cold leaks through her white costume. She wonders if space would do the same given the chance. He rings the doorbell.

 _Think about Jason you're doing this for Jason_ , she reminds herself as they step into the mansion. Strangers, rich well to do strangers with their shiny fake smiles greet them. She puts hers on, stands a little taller. They eat up innocence like poor people at an all you can eat. Assuming said poor people are hungry. Lip service. Don't take anyone's words at face value, not here at least. Cheryl takes her own advice to heart but gives as good as she gets. Words are words. They are a whirl of a tornado gathering her bit by bit. She escapes into the crowd, unlatches herself reluctantly from Jason- he has his own part to play tonight- and into the bathroom. Away. 

Utilize your assets. 

That's what her parents say. What they do. Well, her and Jason are going to finish the job. We're leaving right after, she reassures herself. Making sure the business deals go without a hitch is tenuous. If anything goes wrong... well: it won't be pretty for the Blossom twins. 

  _So no, you're not doing this for Jason._

 It's a harsh world. She reapplies her lipstick, checks for imperfection in her tightly coiled buns, and smiles. Time to play her role in the game. 

 


	2. Something wrong with the blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheryl can't help but noticing Betty Cooper

 

Of course Cheryl notices Betty Cooper. If only at first, through the icy drawl of her mother: of a distant ugly family. She hadn't been so stupid to not connect the skinny ponytailed girl to her respective familia but she had hoped- 

they had been almost friends, when Betty wasn't mooning over Archie.

Which was as close to never as you can get, Cheryl had always figured. Between Betty chasing after her paramour- and by extension, Jughead and the sheriff's son; and growing up Blossom Cheryl quickly learns. And does so fast. One did not associate with lesser citizens not if you were from her particular lineage. Without her own knowledge- or maybe because of it, her soft skin hardens into marble. 

Besides. She doesn't need friends. Friends are for the weak, she needs obedience. 

A shame. Somewhere deep down though, really deep is there regret? Of the upturned nose and throngs of spades? Cheryl snorts. As if you could trust anyone in this town. The implication is laughable when you can't scratch an itch without a who, what, when, and where. 

It becomes second nature to dissect the faults of everyone. She cannot be blinded or fooled through whimsical notions of friendships and childish love. She sees her classmates for what they are: dull simple creatures, pawns to maneuver (only if necessary, she is capable. Transcendent, but not overly cruel.) 

Betty happened to be bred from duller and simpler. A tiresome brood of bottle blondes, each more perfect than the last as far as the Coopers were concerned. It just so happened Betty happened the girl grew up sly. A challenge. How to fight wring the neck of a gentle dove? Others might not see it, but she does. The way Betty eggs on the others as if she's too good to join in on what she endorses. Clever. Not clever enough. The girl next door.

That's what she called herself, Cheryl had read it in Betty's diary once. She had went on several pages with gross pubescent introspection.

Archie this, Archie that. Towards the end of the passage she is even mentioned. "Redhead snob" and while the description hadn't been entirely inaccurate, it had not stopped Cheryl from tearing every last page up into confetti. Years later she would remember. The rage. Even tardo Betty Cooper who cried when someone else did, who bent over backwards for the likes who did not deserve it- she had nothing good to say about Cheryl. Hadn't even pretended or crossed her ill thoughts out as she did about Ethel or Cheryl's cronies- and that. That had been unforgivable. 

From then on Cheryl had not underestimated Cinderella with the pack of misfits trailing behind her. 

Wrong. 

 

 

 

 

 

The wrong Cooper. _Each one better than the last_ , then why the hell was Jason balls deep in the wrong sister? 

Wrong because Polly's  a godforsaken Cooper or because she had spent so long hung over a girl she wanted to- to what, befriend? Have sleepovers and talk about boys and share clothes? Never. Cheryl had prided herself on being detached, see the full picture above all others. Her family, Betty's, Josie's, everyone (no one.) 

How had she missed this? Jason had not once expressed interest in that chubby blunder, nothing beyond mutual disgust for the Coopers at most. Right under Cheryl's nose. How had she not noticed? The worst part it Jason had been as attentive as usual, he had not missed a beat. He would pop popcorn for movie nights, together they would trash the high society, work out, tutor one another, and braid her hair- everything. 

At the same time it had irked her so. Burnt on the way down. Like a shot but without the eventual stupor. Cheryl decided in a last ditch effort to have him refute it, to laugh at the mere accusation- to prove her wrong. So she asked.

 

"What the hell are you doing," she demanded. Jason blinked up at her, paintbrush in one hand red smudged against the side. "Knew you were thick Cher but I thought it was obvious." 

She inhaled sharply.

Straightened her spine. "Well it wasn't." Cheryl wanted to knock his easel down and stomp her foot through it. _That's what he gets for assuming he's Picasso_.     "Sorry your majesty. Should thyst have begged thoust permission?"

He layed the sarcasm on thick, a genuine smile growing. Jason turned his attention back to his painting. _Probably painting Polly's dumb headband_ , Cheryl sulked. "Whatever. It's your funeral and I will not be attending."

Jason coughed dryly," Doubtful. You love me too much, you'd probably crawl in with me. Wouldn't you?" 

She more or less saw red. _You don't have life without me. You're hopeless._                       "Screw you." 

"Don't be such a baby Cheryl."              

"You're the one painting your whore, like a trained dog! Go slobber over her then."

He sputtered, cheeks burning pink. "What are you talking about Cheryl? What the hell!"                                        

"You didn't even warn me... Did you know she invited me over to eat with her family? Like I'd ever-"                        

"Shut up."

He did a funny little sprint towards her, hand covering her mouth. 

Cheryl made a move to remove herself from his grip when he tightened his hold. His hands smelled distinctly of paint. She shoved him away, smoothing her clothing. 

"You know about Polly?"

"No! 'I thought it was obvious', right? Right Jason?" 

She glared at him. "And you said I was the thick one." 

Jason scowled at her. "I thought you were talking about the painting. Listen- you can't let Mother and Father find out. They'll disown me."

Cheryl dropped into a heavy silence. Jason couldn't have been any more incorrect. He was their Golden boy, nothing he'd do would ever cause them to tear from him his crown of roses. Nothing. Oh they would be furious. They'd yell and scream and order to discontinue the affair, but they would not disown him. In fact Cheryl was sure they would do nothing so drastic. 

"Cheryl," he urged. 

"Fine! I won't snitch on you, happy?" He gave her an uneasy glare.                      

"Swear." 

He mouth went dry, and it felt so wrong, he was serious about Polly Cooper, if he was willing to bind her to this vow of silence towards the elder Cooper sister. "Swear." Cheryl muttered. 

Carefully, in what she hoped did not reveal inside. 

"Okay." His eyes were bright. He smiled, cheeks returning to their natural color. Jason picked up the paintbrush he had dropped in his rush. "Won't you sit back down Cher and let me finish? I nearly have the right shade for your hair." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys catch the fact Cheryl thought he was painting Polly but really he was painting Cheryl


End file.
